“You should buy it. A friend of mine owns it. He races Porsches so he converted this 914 to fuel injection. He put some great mag wheels on it,” Randy explained.

“Wow,” I said, hoping to sound suitably impressed. “Fuel injection.” What the hell was that? Being a career woman, a car was mostly needed to get to work. Why would I need fuel injection and mag wheels?

“He’s bought a 911 so he really has to sell this 914.”

Why would three little numbers create a big hurry, I wondered? “How much?” I asked.

My friend Randy and his date

Randy assured me it was an exceptional price for an exceptional car.

“Alright, I’ll take a look at it.” It was the strongest commitment I could muster.

When Randy’s friend drove towards us in a Robin’s Egg Blue Porsche 914 convertible, I heard the sweetest sounding engine imaginable. Chrome sparkled from every bit of trim, including the dressed-to-the-nines mag wheels. My heart did a u-turn right into my stomach.

Randy and I both worked for a major corporation. He was a manager and I was the one who recommended which people would become managers. He knew I could afford the car. Besides, if I didn’t feel like spending my savings, Randy could have a loan ready in a matter of minutes.

“Randy, if there’s anything wrong with this car, you’ll be one sorry guy.” I said before his friend was even out of the car.

“Oh, come on. Don’t insult me.” Randy grinned charmingly and led me over to meet the man who was about to hand me the keys to this divine sports car.

I bonded quickly with the sporty gem. I loved driving it. Though fantastically fun, comfortable, and reliable, it did demand serious attention. Once a month, very early in the morning, I would head for a paved country road where I drove it hard and fast. I’d been warned about high performance engines.

Then the regular preventative maintenance ate a fair chunk of my salary. Someone nicked one of the mag wheels and the replacement cost, in 1973, was over $700.00. Although the man who did the nick paid the bill, it made me gasp.

That wasn’t all. I noticed that while driving at night with no top on the car, I didn’t feel safe, especially when I had to stop at street lights. The hard top was in the back trunk so I could not simply hit a button and have it slip into place.

My dream car was watched, stared at and discussed. There was no other Porsche 914s this colour in the city. As a young, single woman, I was beginning to forgo certain social events if I had to drive there. I fussed about where I parked during the day. I did not like the feeling that too many people knew this car belonged to me.

The Little Blue Porsche

One summer night, I accepted an invite to visit friends who lived south of the city. With a delicious dinner and fascinating company, time slipped by quickly. Finally at 12:45 a.m., we began saying goodnight.

I was the only one driving to the city. It was too late to put the top on the Porsche. I threw aside the scarf that I had used on my long hair for the trip out. No need for it now. I was excited. There would be so little traffic that I could really give the car a good run.

Well over the speed limit, about ten miles from the city, I noticed a car gaining on me. I slowed to the speed limit. It was impossible to see if it was the police. The car came close enough to fall into the blindspot in my rearview mirror, then slowed. It continued to slow down and slipped in behind me.

I did not like the feel of this situation.

The cops wouldn’t do this. I stepped on the gas.

So did the other car.

I said, “Okay, baby, time to get those fuel injectors really clean.” I lowered the gas pedal and the Porsche responded immediately.

As I approached the city limits, I knew the car was still somewhere behind me. There had been no other cars so if headlights appeared, it would be that car.

The first streetlight turned amber. I was too far away to safely get through. There were a few cars at the intersection. I didn’t want to turn right because the street went into an industrial area. I had to wait.

The car pulled up behind me. It was a man. Alone. There was no car beside me, but he chose to stay behind.

What the hell? Is this my imagination? I had to test it. I would take a detour. I knew one that would bring me quickly back onto Main if this man followed me. When the light was green, I raced to my detour and quickly turned right. So did he.

I cut corners around the block and was quickly back onto Main. My heart pounded and my breath was uneven. This guy was a creep. What could I do? I couldn’t drive home. He would simply follow me.

I said, “Okay, God, please help me here. Give me green lights!”

The lights were green, but where could I go? Who would be up at this time of night? What place would be open? Why would I go into some public place? That was a dumb idea.

My mind alert, I continued hitting green lights. He continued following me.

I watched for a cop. I wanted desperately to see one. Suddenly, I knew where to go. I headed straight for the great big, well-lit, full-of-cops Police Station.

I peeled in and abandoned the little Porsche by the front door. I ran into the Station, found a chair and sat in a state of relief. The Officer who approached me listened, helped me put the top up on my car and escorted me safely home.

I loved that car, but I realized the tables had turned. It owned me.

An ad went into the paper the next Monday. The Robin’s Egg Blue Porsche 914 gained a new lover. Mesmerized, but slightly suspicious, the man could not understand how I could sell this perfect little car.

“I may look at a 911,” I said casually and saw his relief.

Soon after, I settled into a quiet, non-goose-bumped relationship with a very ordinary, low maintenance, golden Honda Accord that no one noticed.

***

Dear Guides, is there anything to add about this situation?

We appreciate your invitation to speak to the story. There is a matter that is often overlooked. We would like to ask you about it.

Okay.

You prayed for green lights. You were given green lights. You were given the solution for safety. Would you would agree that your prayer was answered.

Yes, it certainly was.

You don’t write about saying thanks.

I wonder if I did say thanks.

Your gratitude and thankfulness is joyfully received by the Corporation of Spiritual Beings who are diligently engaged in serving your every need. As you turn your mind and your heart to the Divine in gratitude and true appreciation, it serves to give back with an abundance that would astound you. We ask that thanks be remembered. We love you and want to continue serving all that is yours. You claim it when you are in gratitude. When you say thanks for yourself or for others, it opens the doors to the abundance that is yours. It is your joyful heart that allows us entry into your abundance.

I’m speechless.

And that’s our message for tonight. We continue to love our project and working with you. Thank you for all you give.

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42 thoughts on “Who Has The Power? The Porsche Or Me?”

I wrote that very late last night – very tired. It put me back there and I was jumping with every creak and groan of my house as it cooled off in the night air! Silly…however, I did get to bed before hearing roosters.

That car helped me a lot. For example, it helped to not buy a boat. If I couldn’t afford a crew, I couldn’t afford a boat, I decided. Turns out I L-O-V-E kayaking. More than any other boating. About those prayers…those Guides fool me a lot. I write these stories thinking I know what they are going to highlight. They must know that I love being fooled. I thought they would be talking up the issue of worldly goods and chattels. However, they have let me know that I can have whatever I want. But I have to truly want it. Guess what that sez about my being single!

That is why it’s best to own a car nobody notices. I no longer drive but I understand exactly why you had to get rid of it. It’s only a machine to get you from A to B – doesn’t matter what it looks like :-)

Yes, and it’s a double freedom. To not be worrying about the darned thing is one part of the glory. To be out of that propensity of ‘show the world’ is like escaping from a whale bone girdle. I wore one of those in a play once…I’m not THAT old!

As much as I commit to remembering, it’s amazing how I can just wallow in self-made glory. Good thing Love is at the core of it all.

Charles, one day, if I was having a coffee with you, I’d ask you all about the experience of shared writing. I’d ask if it’s hard to have someone take your precious verbal baby and want to eliminate, change or refresh it. Perhaps it would not be difficult when done in the spirit of sharing, but do you have parameters that are laid before you begin? There could be quite a story evolve around this sort of undertaking.

I thank you and your guides for this deeper understanding of love, gratitude and thankfulness. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the universe for the Soul Journers entry into my life; you ladies have been such a blessing on my spiritual journey. You have helped me with truths, focus, and most importantly love in a way that I have not experienced before. Soul Dipper, whatever agreement we made before we incarnated, I would like to personally thank you for saying yes to this agreement. Thank you for all the loving and caring conversations that has helped my soul to grow daily.

Kadian, what a fabulous surprise. As you and I have shared, our soul walk is a mutually beneficial experience. It is interesting how the seven Soul Journers had this incredible bolt of introduction through an ‘intro blog’ that was strengthened while we were in South Africa. I was just thinking this morning, exactly one year ago today, I was on the plane heading for Johannesburg. (With a 12 hour, 1/4-sleep ‘sleep over’ on a bench in Frankfurt.) Never having seen a picture of you, in J’burg, as we snaked our way through the line-up to Customs, I kept passing you and saying, “Yep, that’s Kadian!” Turned out it was you!

Today I was wondering – if I was to do our Soul Safari again, would I do anything differently? Yes, instead of jumping on the jeep and getting right into the Safari when we landed in Madikwe, I would have headed to bed for a sleep FIRST. I never did catch my wind – a 4 hour sleep was a miracle on any given night!

I love you to bits and cannot imagine a life that didn’t include you. Thank you for being a friend and sister. I’m delighted your healing practice is now officially underway. And, I can assure everyone that you are as much a distance healer as one that practices ‘hands-on’ – ’cause you gave each of the Soul Journers a treatment. I felt like I was being wrapped in a blanket of love. Amazing.

We just have to get these Soul Journers to send me an update of their lives so I can let our readers know how everyone is doing! People do ask. I’ve used ‘summer’ as an excuse for their silence. Come on Carol, Della, Joan, Joanne, and Susan – summer’s over. Send me some good hot ‘stuff’ so I can update the folks.

I can’t believe it’s been a year already. Yep, you and I were running on adrenaline there since we both were the last to arrive. Next time, I’ll come in from the night before. Thank you for that lovely plug.

The Loving Presence is with us all the time…after reading your “about”, I know you are very much aware of that, as well. I’m learning how our gratitude helps more than us. That makes it even more worthwhile. Thanks for coming over for a visit.

The message I got today is very very clear….When you say thanks for yourself or for others, it opens the doors to the abundance that is yours. It is your joyful heart that allows us entry into your abundance…I thank you Amy xoxoxoxox

Ah, Amanda, you certainly nailed the meaning of that message. It’s a joyful heart that frees all of the larders – sitting there holding the abundance. I’ve heard Spirit Guides refer to it as “being in the vortex” in order to receive the abundance that we have asked for. So how do we get into the vortex? Through joy. Feel the feelings as if we already have it. Don’t just wish for love, get into the feeling like his arms are already there. And, Amanda, when that happens, you have to have a party in a location where we can all come!

I’m amazed at people whizzing around with soft tops today – especially in cities. I grew up and lived where the crime rate was very low. When I was transferred to an area in Ontario, even in this city, this sort of event was very uncommon. I had to change my life out of fear. I didn’t like doing that, but those were the realities. If I read the same advice somewhere, Nancy, thank goodness it stuck. I’ve been pretty good about listening to my intuition – the consequences of not are too yukky.

Another Amy adventure. I love that you went for it.
The allure of cars, hard to be imune to it completely.
My practical flea market identity has only known a
station wagon. The secret, it may be old but should be solid & resposive a good import 5 speed stick.
You look klunky but you drive it like a sports car.
The thrill of downshifting on a curve, its still a rush.
Lord never take my clutch away. I want to drive a
mini, my latest car fantasy.
Keep it rolling Amy, you are a joy to read

Me, too, Della – I still drive stick shifts. The downshift, the smooth gear change, the maintenance of just the right number of RPMs – why else drive?? Sounds like you would have loved to drive my little Orsh Porsche.

Great story. My heart was pounding fast as I read how you were being followed. I kept thinking, “I hope she knows to drive to the nearest police station”. And you did. :-)

One thing I notice about having a new car is we worry too much about the car; dings, scratches, etc when in fact, we need to realize it’s just a means of transportation. Maybe my husband is right when he says, “If you get a new car, put a blemish on it right away so you’re not worried about when IT might happen.”

Thanks, Barbara. Yes, the police station…if I wasn’t simply listening to my intuition, I certain must have heard or read the idea at one time. I grew up where there was very little crime so one didn’t have to be so vigilant. So it was a significant experience.

Your husband sounds wise. Would it count if we made a scratch on the inside of the back fender? :)

Me, too, Earthianne. I can have a little trouble applying it, too. So, I just dust myself off and give it another go. I have a stickie in front of me “Feel Forward”. How I forget so easily is a mystery when the feeling of ‘want’ is such a companion. Step by step. Thanks for coming by and leaving a comment.

Hi Amy .. loved the story .. I had a red Midget years ago .. loved it .. needed help all along the way & it sure attracted attention with me in it! – it didn’t need much maintenance though like your racing blues ..

It is interesting how life and guides will accommodate us .. thank goodness .. they look after us ..

Actually, Hilary, before that Porsche, I had been married. We started life in a little red Midget. It was a riot. We’d be driving along with the canvas top securely snapped in place. We’d hit a bump and POP! – the top would fly off. We sold it after I got tired of riding along holding it in place. Oh the joys of the honeymoon period!

Ah ha .. I wasn’t married .. and my top didn’t come off – thank goodness! I progressed to another red Midget .. then a blue Lancia .. very p-o-s-h .. well everyone thought so .. and couldn’t understand how I didn’t crash them! Oh I started with a Sunbeam Alpine red .. my father called it a fire engine!! We had a couple of holiday’s together he was very ‘upper crust’ .. and drove around with his bowler on – when it would stay there .. with his young daughter as his ‘mistress’ .. caused a few stirs and laughs by us ..

I really, really love driving. Still do, but not with the same invincibility that I used to practice. I will not confess in this blog my speeds and experiments when I took that car on the country roads early in the mornings. Suffice to say that I am damned lucky there was no errant cow on the road.

Yes, Naomi, I am very moved during this anniversary period of our Soul Safari. I was so wretchedly tired throughout that whole trip (I never did catch up on my sleep the whole time) that your presence was like a balm! Your sensitivity to matters that others would miss did not go unnoticed. I am still often floored by your wholesomeness. That word could be spelled “Whole Sum Ness”. Out of that trip, so much has opened for a number of us. Keeping contact with the handful of those soulful wayfarers has kept my resolve to stay true to my purpose. It is no longer a matter of rallying courage. It is a matter of simply being.

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